


Cracked World

by KellicOnMyGravestone



Category: Bring Me The Horizon, You Me At Six
Genre: Angels, Cocaine, Crack, Crack Relationships, Demons, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fransykes - Freeform, Guardian Angels, M/M, Smut, angel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellicOnMyGravestone/pseuds/KellicOnMyGravestone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Sykes, a crack addict, had no idea that he would be admitted into Heaven.<br/>What he also didn't know was that imperfect humans must pay for their sins by becoming guardian angels.<br/>Josh Franceschi, another addict with no family to look after him and no one to love, is the human assigned to Oliver.<br/>Can his new guardian angel fix him?<br/>-KellicOnMyGravestone does Oli's P.O.V, @ArtistoftheMoon (on wattpad) does Josh's P.O.V<br/>-Mentions of thekellinunderthevic's demon characters from "The Deal" (with permission, of course), so credit to her</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

What the fuck?

Where am I?

First, there was a bright light, it was so fucking bright, that damn light... and now there's nothing.

I'm sitting in a completely empty white space.  
I don't know how I got here.

Oh no. Nonono.

Desperately, I place two fingers on each side of my head in an attempt to remember something, anything.

"No, no, no... fuck, no," I mutter as the image of blood comes to mind.

No... this didn't happen- I'm not dead... I can't be... maybe I'm hallucinating from under the blankets of a hospital bed. I'm just dreaming. Yeah, that's it. It has to be.

Looking around me, I find nothing but space. Everything is a bold, opaque white. How did this happen?

Carefully, I place my forefinger and middle finger on my neck, feeling for a pulse.

Once I find my prominent pulse point, I pinch it and flinch at the sudden pain.

Oh, fuck no. I am NOT dead. If I feel a pulse and pain, that means I'm alive, right? But wait, people can't feel pain in their dreams, can they?

Shit.

I'm not dead, because I have a pulse.

I'm not dreaming, because I can feel pain and it's not waking me up.

My first instinct is to scream for help.

As I yell into oblivion, I am rudely interrupted by a loud, piercing tone coming from above me.

I scramble to cover my ears with my hands, screaming. The noise is the loudest, most high-pitched sound I have ever heard.

"Stop! Please! It's hurting me- I'm going to go deaf- fuck!" I scream, not able to hear my own voice over the deadly sound.

But it just won't stop. The pain is unbearable. I fall onto the floor, crawling up into a ball and trying my best to give my ears as much coverage as possible, but no matter how much I try to keep the noise out, it just keeps getting louder. I am crying at this point, desperately begging for the sound to stop.

This isn't getting me anywhere, so I do the unthinkable.

Removing my hands from my ears, I completely give up. I know I'm going to go deaf. There's no changing that. My ears are burning and my head is banging. As I try to stand up, still fighting off the pain caused by the noise, I inexplicably slip and fall, making my sobs increase in depth. I look down at the white ground below me, noticing its sudden change in color.

Suddenly, I feel something wet begin to drip down my neck and make its way down my chest. The ground is now flecked with red droplets. I hold my shaking hands up in front of my face, looking them over. There is blood everywhere, and it's all from my ears. Losing all hope, I crawl back up into a ball and silently endure the torture being inflicted on me.

After about ten more minutes of the horrendous noise, I am trembling and shaking on the floor. Why don't they just kill me already?

What the fuck is happening and what did I do to deserve this?  
Abruptly, the noise just stops. The blood is suddenly gone, and replaced with luxurious fur carpeting. I reach my hands up to my face to feel for blood, but there is none.

Now that the pain is disappearing, my senses are slowly returning, except I can't hear anything. This must be Hell. I'm pretty sure that being an Atheist and a 10-year crack addict is a sin, so there's no way I would ever be let into "Heaven". I lift my head up and look forward.

There is a long walkway of purple, fuzzy carpeting. On either side of the carpet, there are houses. At least, they look like houses. They're transparent and infinitely tall. This place looks like some sort of government city. Standing up and preparing to walk forward, I am abruptly grabbed from behind by a strong arm. I am still afraid of this place, due to the fact that it deafened me, so I do not try to struggle away from the man who grabbed me.

Obediently, I let the man lead me up the purple carpeting. As he walks me down the carpet, I look up at his face. I see that he is speaking, but I can not hear him. It looks like he is saying something like, "late-bloomer."

He continues to walk with me towards what appears to be a gathering ceremony, eventually letting go of me once we reach an empty space in the crowd for me to stand in. I look around at my surroundings, attempting to take it all in at once.

Some of the people here have... are those wings? Is this fucking Heaven? In front of the crowd is a stage, and on that stage sits a very, VERY large man. Not large as in fat, but large as in God-like. He is sitting in a golden throne, with two average-sized men with wings hovering on either side of him.

I glance beside me to find a man dressed in only boxers, with incredibly huge, fuzzy wings protruding from his back. Looking around me, I notice that everyone else is also wearing only undergarments. Cautiously, I look down at myself, to find that I, too, am wearing only boxers. Feeling exposed, I shuffle quickly to cover myself up, but then stop once I realize that I look like an idiot.

Does this mean I have... wings?

I inconspicuously glance behind me and am disappointed to find that I do not, in fact, have wings like the others. My back is one of the few bare ones in the crowd. I look beside me to see an average looking angel-man-thing, seemingly awaiting the ceremony's initiation. I see that the nametag sewn into his bare chest reads "Gerard".

Gently tapping on his shoulder, I whisper, "Uh, hey."

He turns to face me, evidently annoyed.

"Um, I'm sorry to bother you, but could you please tell me what's going on here? Like, one second I was in a white room, and then this noise deafened me-" I stop myself once I realize that I am still deaf and therefore can not hear myself speaking.

"Read. My. Lips," he orders me as if I'm mentally dysfunctional, "Buddy," he puts his hand on my shoulder, "have you heard the news that you're dead? Oh wait, you can't hear. Ha." He turns back to face the stage and chuckles.

I raise my eyebrows in confusion. Has this man been here longer than I have? If so, when did he get here? What is this ceremony supposed to be for, anyway? Why is this Gerard guy not questioning my deafness? I never get the chance to ask my questions because my thoughts are interrupted by Gerard motioning for me to look up at the stage, where the large, god-like man is trying to get the crowd's attention.

As I look up to the stage, the god-creature makes eye contact with me and the various other wing-less people. Slowly, he lifts his hand in an upward motion, forming a golden orb of light from his palm. I look around at the people around me, and surprisingly, all of the winged people are acting as if nothing strange is happening, as if it is common for there to be a golden orb of light protruding from someone's hand. The wingless, however, are equally as confused as I am.

In one swift movement, the god-person-thing focuses deeply on the orb, quickly spinning it around and stretching it in a taffy-like motion. Suddenly, the stretched orb dissipates into numerous chunks of light, and the god-thing's minions scramble to catch the pieces. The catchers simultaneously throw the chunks out to the crowd, seemingly using mind-powers of some sort to move the pieces in their desired direction. I notice that the pieces of light are only flying towards people who do not have wings. As the light approaches me, I do not know what to do with my body, so I just stand there, awaiting the light's effects.

Once it reaches me, the light picks me up and allows me to float. Looking down, I try not to panic at how high up I am. Don't look down, I tell myself. Do NOT look down.

The winged people are not phased, but simply remain standing contently, staring forward. The bubble of light I am standing in begins to move towards the stage, and I try not to panic.

Seriously, what the fuck is happening? This shit is impossible!

I desperately look around for whoever is in control of the bubble, and I find a winged person, one of the minions, staring intently and focusing deeply on moving me forward. I sigh in relief when I see that the rest of the wing-less are also trapped in moving bubbles. As my bubble approaches the stage, the minion controlling it makes a quick hand motion, turning me to face the crowd with his mind.

The rest of the bubble people and I are simultaneously set on the stage in an organized horizontal line, all facing the winged crowd. I feel my bubble pop, and I instantly feel naked. More naked than I actually am, considering the fact that I am only in boxers. Why the hell would they strip me like this? What the fuck did they do with my Drop Dead sweater??? That was my favorite fucking hoodie!!!

My thoughts are interrupted by the sight of the god-like thing walking towards me and the other people on the stage. He does not say a word. He simply touches the first person in line, and does nothing more. The rest of the line, including me, is immensely confused, until the touched person's eyes suddenly widen as he claps his hands. He touches everything he can, banging and slapping, until he screams something I can not hear, and grabs the god-man's hands and drops to his knees, as if he is praising him.

The same trend repeats for the next person, and continues to happen again and again until the large god-man reaches the last person in the line, me. I prepare for a miracle to happen as he lowers his hands to my shoulders. At first, nothing happens. But then, miraculously, there is a sharp noise in my ear, and I gasp in surprise.

All at once, the noises come back to me. I hear the entire room chanting, "All hail Brendon." I'm guessing that this guy's name is Brendon now. I suddenly wonder how long they have been chanting that. Have they been doing it since I got here? I wouldn't know, because I was deaf. But I'm not anymore. "Brendon" turns me to face him, probably expecting me to fall to my knees and worship him based on his anti-deafening actions. But I don't thank him. After all, he's the one who deafened me in the first place, so he doesn't deserve my gratitude.

He just gives me a malicious look and returns to protocol.

"Alright, alright. Quiet, quiet, now," Brendon orders, doing the lower-the-volume movement with his hands.

The room is instantly silent. Damn, this guy must really have some power in this place.

"Thank you, my precious angels," he says, blowing a kiss to the crowd.

Shit, I guess they really ARE angels. What the fuck am I doing here, then? I'm not an angel, I'm a fucking crack addict.

"I apologize for temporarily deafening you, children. It is my duty to make sure you know who's the boss here. I am the one and only god, and always will be. If you ever fail to respect me, just know that Vic and Mike, the leaders of the underworld, will be much, MUCH harsher than I was if I send you to them for attempting to rebel. Hopefully, with time, you will eventually learn about the torture Vic inflicted on his power-hungry father as punishment for his unfairness and greed. I gave you pain to protect you, and to prepare you for what may be to come. Know your place, whether it be in Heaven OR Hell."

Hm. So I guess Hell is real now, too. This is fucking insane, to say the least.

"Now, my children," he says in an angelic tone, "as we all know, the commencement of the guardian ceremony is inevitable, considering the countless number of imperfect souls there are on Earth."

Guardian ceremony? What the fuck? I'm in no shape to be watching over anybody!

"So," he continues, "as the tradition goes, I will be picking, at random, the names of the humans these sinners will be watching over as punishment." Brendon turns his head to look at wingless angels on the stage, including me.

When the idea of having my own human finally gets through my head, the first thing I think of is how hot the human will be. It's like being matched up with a lab partner; the only thing I can focus on is getting the hottest option possible.

"Once the human dies, of course, you angels will no longer carry the burden of responsibility, and you will be free to roam the paradise side of Heaven as you please. But for now, you are temporarily condemned to the slum side, where you will live as sinners until you are proven worthy of living in paradise. The slum side, if you do not know already, is identical to an 'American'," he uses air quotes, "city. You will be treated as a human, and you will live within the same conditions as a human, until you can prove that you're worthy of paradise by successfully providing your human with a happy life until their death. Before you can do that, however, allow me to begin the ceremonial routine."

He snaps his fingers, and a bowl containing small orbs of light appears in the palm of his hand.

"In this bowl," Brendon states, "I have the names of troubled humans who do not practice Christianity. They are enduring many problems, yet they refuse to pray to me. Therefore, I can not help them. But you," he points at all of us, "can. These humans need help in improving their lives, and that's where you angels come in. If you manage to fix their problems by becoming the little voices inside of their heads, you will be rewarded with paradise. Do I make myself clear?"

We all nod, still a bit phased by the current situation.

"Your humans will be chosen at random, and their information will be displayed on this screen," he snaps his fingers and a very large screen appears beside him. "Once your human is assigned, I will send you to Earth and you will have to find a way to live near them during the day. The human will not see you, so you will need to watch over them and become the voice inside of their mind, telling them what is right or wrong. At night, you are to return here and go straight to the slums, where you will be living without guidance. This routine will repeat itself until your human's death. Got it?"

We all nod again.

"Here we go," Brendon mumbles in a sing-songy voice. "First in line, step forward."

A boy with ginger hair and a scared expression on his face steps up. Brendon sticks his hand in the bowl, swishes it around, and swiftly pulls out one orb of light. He gently caresses it, then allows it to touch the large screen. Information about the human instantly pops up. There is a picture of a young man with black hair and a frown on his face. I realize that it is a mugshot.

Name: Austin Carlile  
Age: 27  
Problem: Depression, Drug Abuse, Refusal Towards Rehabilitation  
Current Predicted Date of Death: 2/17/2025

Damn, this guy's only got a few years left. Now I see why these people need help. I hope I don't get assigned to a wacko like that guy.

The same process repeats for the rest of the line, until everyone else has already been moved to earth, and it is finally my turn.

"Come on now, I don't have all day," Brendon chimes, beckoning me forward.

I nervously step forward, silently hoping that I don't get a criminal like the majority of the other angels did. As I step closer, I notice that half of the winged crowd has left by now, while rest of the angels are simply standing around and chatting.

"I sense a sort of rebelliousness from you, Oliver," he stops me before revealing my human. "For your own safety, I'm here to tell you that rebelling will not be tolerated. Not in Heaven, nor Hell. I don't know if you've heard, dear, but Hell isn't a place for torture anymore. It's an organized social system now, thanks to Vic. And trust me, there's nothing Vic hates more than a greedy, selfish dropout from Heaven. That's exactly what the first Devil was, and that's exactly what caused Hell to be a place of torture. Vic will do anything to prevent that sort of evil from tainting the underworld again, and if you even so much as THINK about trying to overthrow me, I'll tell him all about it and you'll be his to deal with. There is no way to overthrow me, nor Vic, and a measly, wingless angel like you couldn't possibly overpower either of us. Not even when your wings start growing."

Wings? "And how long will that take?" I ask with no sign of intimidation.

"That's for me to know, and for you to find out, my dear," he pats my head as if I'm a small child.

Without letting me respond, Brendon immediately touches the screen with the last orb, revealing my human.

Oh my fucking god. I got so lucky.

This man is so damn sexy. It's a shame he won't be able to see me. But won't I be able to communicate with him through his mind? Well, that's something, at least.

Name: Josh Franceschi  
Age: 24  
Problem: Crack Addiction, Evicted from Family Household for Having Sexual Attraction Towards Males  
Current Predicted Date of Death: Dependent on Future State of Addiction

Having sexual attraction towards males? Crack? Oh, this is going to be fun.

"Wait!" I yell before Brendon can snap me out of here.

"Yes?" he awaits my request.

"If he's gay, why are you helping him? Aren't you against that?" I inquire.

He gives me a confused look before lightly rubbing my shoulder in a comforting fashion. "You're gay," he states.

"Yeah, so wha-" I stop myself when I realize that he allowed me, a homosexual, to become an angel.

"God loves everyone, dear," he whispers, snapping his fingers and sending me off to Earth.


	2. Josh

"Will that be cash or credit?"

All day, every day. That's one of the only phrases that comes out of my mouth. Being a cashier means I have to deal with annoying girls and crying children my whole shift only to go home to a crumbling apartment. Perfect life right?

"Josh, clean up on aisle eight, pronto, and hurry. We can't waste all day on your slow ass," comes my boss Zach over the transmitter.

"Yes, sir," is the only thing that manages to escape my mouth.

All the other things I want to say won't come out. Like how that mom seriously needs to control her brat, or that this is a grocery store and not a fucking skate park like those teenage pricks think it is. At least it's already six thirty and we close at seven. It wouldn't be so bad if Zach wasn't making me mop up fucking puke again. Last time, I had to stay past closing because the dude was still retching in the bathroom and I couldn't lock up. Losing myself in thought for a few minutes, I don't notice that it's time to close until Zach is making the last call for customers. I shuffle over to the back room where the last of my work is waiting for me. Alright, let's get this over with.

After finishing my work and being yelled at for apparently clocking in my card early by Zach, I get into my car, a shitty 2004 model. As I drive toward the apartment complex, where I had to move when my parents kicked me out, I begin to regret my prior life decisions. Why did the forces of the universe have to make me gay? Now, my family hates me, and I sort of hate myself too. If there were even a God to pray to, he still wouldn't accept my prayers because of what I'm attracted to, and I think that's quite fucked up.

As if no time has passed, I'm already pulling into the apartment building's parking lot, getting out of my car, and walking up the slightly familiar path to my somewhat new apartment.

Walking into the hall where the front desk is, the air some how feels.. different. Confused, I tiredly shuffle up the two flights of stairs, past several unconscious drunk neighbors, to my door. The door is already cracked open. Now living in a shitty neighborhood makes you accustomed to break-ins, but usually there's obvious destruction. Checking the apartment just verified that this wasn't a normal break in.

I noticed that my computer, which was normally on my bedside table, had mysteriously mover to the couch. Nothing else seemed to be damaged, just moved around a little bit. The weirdest thing was the laptop, I don't understand why they hadn't taken it. I mean, come on, who breaks into a house, doesn't take anything, and just moves things around a little? On top of that, this idiot left some fucking page up on the computer. If you're going to rob someone, do it right. The page that's pulled up is a news story. Something about a drug dealer getting shot at some crack house.

I put the laptop down and walk over to the door to leave, locking it after me, 'cause I'd rather not come home to a ransacked house. But with things actually missing, I scream internally at the same time because I'll have to report this break in to the creepy landlord.

Aged. That's the one and only word it takes to sum up this man. At 73, he still owns several apartment complexes and is never afraid to tell you that if you don't pay your rent on time, you're packing. I nervously make my way back down to the bottom floor via the stairs, and before I know it, I'm standing outside of the landlord's office. Before I even knock, an old, raspy sounding voice cuts through the air.

"Just come in Josh. I already have a report of the forced entry due to Edith in apartment B-C. I suppose you'd like to see the security tapes?" The old man says with a sigh.

I shuffle a bit under the man's intimidating stare before managing to let a small, "If that's okay with you, sir."

The man just laughs at my timidness before slowly spiking around in his chair to face several screens mounted on the wall.

"Well, looks like it's a man, probably in his twenties," says the landlord.

I spin around to look at the screen and all I see is brown hair and a tall, lean figure before the screen goes black.

"That's all I have," remarks the landlord. "If you want, we can discuss this further at my place," he says with a wink.

Repulsed, I thank him, reject his offer quietly, and maneuver back up to my apartment.

I don't even bother going to the cops. Crimes are so common in this area that they wouldn't even show up to investigate. I eat a quick dinner, shower, and dry my hair, and by then it's about midnight. Considering the fact that I'm working an early shift tomorrow, I try to fall alseep, paranoid about the brown haired man who was in my apartment today.

A content sigh comes from above the bed, startling me.

"So you're the kid who lives here. Hmf," says the man standing over my bed. "Get ready, 'cause you'll be seeing a lot of me from now on."

Strangely, I hear the voice echoing off the walls of both my room and my mind. It is vaguely existent in the back of my head after he is done speaking, as if I can summon it whenever I please.

I stare at him blankly, afraid that this could be the man who broke into my home. I know this is not real, though, because I almost always hallucinate before I go to sleep.

Suddenly, the man's facial expression changes. He looks me in the eyes, as if he's astonished by the fact that I'm looking at him. I continue to stare into the hallucination's eyes until he angrily vanishes into thin air. Damn, I must be REALLY tired. I normally see things before bed, but they've never been this realistically presented.

I conclude that I am just imagining things, due to my sleep-deprivation. So I silently drift off to sleep after mentally questioning my brain's sudden creativity shown within tonight's hallucination.

-

I wake up later that night to an open window and a single white feather on the ground.


End file.
